


March 15 - Ring-A-Ring-A-Challenge

by HASA_Archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Other - Freeform, War of the Ring
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-14
Updated: 2006-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-22 21:44:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3744584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HASA_Archivist/pseuds/HASA_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Today’s entry in the Tale of Years is:</p><p>March 15</p><p>In the early hours the Witch-king breaks the Gates of the City. </p><p>Denethor burns himself on a pyre. </p><p>The horns of the Rohirrim are heard at cockcrow.</p><p>Battle of the Pelennor. Théoden is slain. </p><p>Aragorn raises the standard of Arwen. </p><p>Frodo and Samwise escape and begin their journey north along the Morgai. </p><p>Battle under the trees in Mirkwood; Thranduil repels the forces of Dol Guldur. </p><p>Second assault on Lórien.</p><p> </p><p>So what happens to the characters NOT mentioned in this entry by name? Or characters, such as wives, children or bad guys, that must have existed, but were never mentioned at all?</p><p>Here's your chance: tell us about the characters that Tolkien did not mention for this day in Middle-earth, March 3019!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. 15th March

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the HASA Transition Team: This story was originally archived at [HASA](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Henneth_Ann%C3%BBn_Story_Archive), which closed in February 2015. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in February 2015. We posted announcements about the move, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact The HASA Transition Team using the e-mail address on the [HASA collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/hasa/profile).

Éomer did not know how he could bear it. When Théodred talked of when he would be king, Éomer had been content to be by his side. Never did he imagine he might be king himself, and not so soon.

It was too soon. Théoden was only just returned to them and Éomer needed his wisdom yet. Governing Rohan was a hard pursuit on its own, but they were fighting a war - although the battle was over Éomer knew this was not the end of it. It was no consolation that he had run out of kin to lose.


	2. With Bow and Blade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Todays entry in the Tale of Years is:

  
**Rebirth**  
\------------------- 

~*~

_ Filth. Blood. Gore. _   
  
The stuff drenched him until he no longer knew where the grime ended and he began. So long as he fought, he lived. _Nock, draw, release._ He glanced up, a foul darkness covered the sky where the sun should be or had blood marred his vision? _Unsheathe, parry, thrust_ \- his blade found its way home again and again, until he no longer cared about the hour, nor counted himself among the dead.  
  
_Resheathe._ He hung his head for a moment. _Exhausted. Numb._ Did Aragorn yet live? Bitter tears stung the back of his closed lids. He did not know. He needed to tell him he understood. _Weary_. _Tired._ All those man-words that never before made sense, suddenly took hold of his heart. 

A fierce battle cry rang out across the valley.  
  
Legolas shook himself. " _Ada_?" Yet Thranduil was leagues away. Legolas felt the boughs of the Green Wood bend at the first assault; knew his father would not leave their people in this time of need.  
  
Again, he heard the familiar voice, commanding, " _Do not despair!_ " it seemed he would not leave Legolas either. 

"Ada!" The image of the King faded.

No time -- Legolas faced their foe again. _Nock, draw, release..._  
  
He felt renewed.  
  
  
\----------------- 

 Deliverance

~*~

Thranduil raised his blade. The weapon arched, shimmered silver and neatly separated flesh from bone. _Blood. Gore. Filth._ He spat on the enemy then pulled his sword free. Attacked from behind, he swiveled and swung again, savoring the singing sound the iron made before it tasted death. _Slash. Parry. Thrust._ An age-old dance the Elven-King knew well. He did not falter; knew the enemy could not, _would not_ , overcome his people. He would not allow it.

 He raised his arm to attack again, and found his blade met air, the corpses of the enemy surrounding him. 

Just ahead, Thranduil saw an elf standing alone in the clearing, his head bowed. A goblin approached him from behind. " _Does the fool not see the danger_ _?_ " Too far away to make use of his sword, Thranduil sheathed it quickly, raising his voice in a cry of warning and then, in alarm. _Nock, draw, release…_

The arrow found its mark. 

The image before Thranduil melted into the shadows. The lone figure somehow reminding him of his son. 

  _Would that we could fight this foe together._

__ Thranduil walked on. Ahead the battle loomed. He drew his blade.

"Do not despair!"

The King joined the fray.

 


End file.
